Synchronicity
by Kneazle
Summary: AU 'Human Nature.' Instead of 1913, the TARDIS falls through the Void and lands in Rose's alternate world... but the Family are close behind, and things won't be easy for everyone involved... a Dr/John SmithxRose Reunion!romance and adventure.
1. Chapter 1

Synchronicity

Kneazle

**Disclaimer**: Belongs to BBC and Russell T Davies and all those lovely, lovely people in England. Which I am not.

**Summary**: Set during 'Human Nature.' Instead of 1913, the TARDIS falls through the Void and lands in Rose's alternate world… but the Family is close behind, and things won't be anywhere near easy for everyone involved.

**Notes**: My first foray into _Doctor Who_! I'm terribly excited. Anyway, some things to keep in mind:

- Time progresses slower on "Pete's World" than in the original timeline;  
- The clichéd plotline of Rose being preggers is involved, which leads to…;  
- Rose and the Doctor being intimate. At any time. But after the regeneration;

- Jackie likes the Doctor; none of those silly "OMG he's an alien!!" moments. Re-watch the beginning of "Army of Ghosts" if you don't like that;

- Finally, I shall try to avoid Martha-bashing. Funny thing is, I like Donna more than Martha after one episode, so… I'll try. No promises.

--

**Synchronicity:** the coincidental occurrence of events and especially psychic events (as similar thoughts in widely separated persons or a mental image of an unexpected event before it happens) that seem related but are not explained by conventional mechanisms of causality.

--

_Chapter One_

Rose's bare knees hit the marble tile of her bathroom floor hard. She ignored the pain, as the nausea rolling about her stomach was a pressing concern; she pushed the toilet seat up smoothly, a practiced move, and lurched forward, emptying the contents of her breakfast.

Cool hands smoothed back her natural, brownish hair, from her shoulders.

Resting her flushed face against the cool porcelain of the loo, Rose sighed in pleasure and murmured, "Thanks Mum."

Jackie Tyler cooed a noise in return. "Better now, Rose?"

"Mm, a bit."

"It's been three months of morning sickness… is that…" Jackie paused. She didn't want it to come out wrong.

Rose shuffled from her knees to her side, her arms trembling slightly. She wearily opened her brown eyes and looked up at her mother, still with the dyed blonde hair and dark eyebrows, with slight shadows under her eyes from her own pregnancy. "Go on, say it Mum – is it normal?" Rose frowned slightly, blindly reaching for the lever and flushing the toilet. "I haven' the foggiest."

Jackie frowned, running a hand across Rose's forehead. "I'm just worried. I don't want there to be complications."

"I know," replied Rose wearily, glancing up. She nodded once at her mother, and together they rose from the floor, with Rose leaning against the bathroom cabinet. Jackie handed Rose a face cloth and Rose ran it under the cool water tap, eager to press her face into the towel.

Who would have thought that she, Rose Tyler, at twenty, would be a mother?

When she had said her goodbyes nearly seven months ago, she hadn't known about the baby. Her mother was already three months along with the next Tornado Tyler, eager to start her life again with Pete. It wasn't until a month later that Rose had thrown her lunch up at work, causing her assistant to fly into a fit. Abigail McMaster had called Pete down from a board meeting with the Prime Minister; Mickey and Jake were recalled from a scouting mission with Torchwood 3 in Cardiff and flown back; Jackie left her yoga class.

Four hours later after a hysterical Abigail refused to let Rose out of the ladies' toilet near her office in the Department for Extra-Terrestrial Research & Development, which Rose was the Head of, Rose was bundled up and taken to the local hospital for a check-up.

And there, she learned, she was pregnant. Rose had given the doctor her best "what are you on about?" look; especially as Mickey confirmed that they had never gotten back together after what they all privately called "Doomsday."

Pieces started falling into place and Pete made a few phone calls; Mickey hacked into the hospitals' records and Rose Tyler had never been to St. Mary's and the doctor who treated her was quickly reassigned to another hospital in Scotland.

By late that evening, Torchwood's own doctors were on Rose's personal staff and the truth was revealed; somehow, Rose was nearly nine months along.

"Excuse me?" blurted Jackie, in shock. Everyone in the room turned from looking at Rose's mother to Rose's midsection, which had a barely noticeable bump: it was gently round but a lack of exercise and too many chips could easily be blamed. "That's not nine months along!"

Jackie looked down at her rounded tummy, pointed and exclaimed: "That's _seven_! Seven! See?"

"That's what the readings say!" argued back Nicholas Evans, one of the few original Cybus scientists to survive the "upgrade" process a year ago. He was also one of the few who could be trusted, despite having been a Cybus Industries employee – he had earned his keep numerous times for Pete before Rose and Jackie arrived.

"Ms. Tyler is pregnant, and according to her hCG levels… she's nearly nine months along. Rose has got nearly 117,000 mIU per ml, which is normally found between thirty weeks to the actual birth. And thirty-five weeks, which Rose is at, equals about nine months. Give or take, of course, given the… uh…"

"Father," supplied Mickey helpfully, his eyes riveted on Rose's midsection. "I always knew you two were close, Rose, but _wow_…"

And from then on, Rose had been taken off any galactic meetings with aliens, any hostage situations, and anything to do with space travel. She was promoted to the ET R&D department, and found herself running the low-budget, forgotten archive rooms. She staffed nearly fifteen people, all loyal to her, and all incredibly curious about the world _out there_. Their job was to identify alien technology, artefacts, and figure out alien history.

For the most part, Rose found it exciting. It was almost like exploring with the Doctor again, but without the 'running for their lives' part. Abigail was her assistant, dealing with meetings and liaison-ing between departments and the CEO room where Pete lorded over Torchwood 1. Abby was also godsend: as she kept order around the office, she also kept order for Rose, especially in those first few months at Torchwood in which Rose fell into a deep depression that had all employees at Torchwood 1 on alert.

With the majority of London reeling from the affect of John Lumic's Cybermen, those who went rogue like Pete, Mickey and Jake became the core of the People's Revolution and rebuilt London to their image. Torchwood once again flourished, but this time without the cloak and dagger routine that the alternate world favoured.

By the time London had recovered, the Cybermen had disappeared (and reappeared following the Genesis Ark into Jackie and Rose's parallel universe) and Torchwood was turned into a proper authority without ulterior motives. When Jackie Tyler mysteriously appeared, with Pete Tyler's daughter no one knew of in tow, secrets were revealed and somehow everyone in Torchwood 1 knew just _who_ Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler and Rose Tyler were.

And more importantly, they knew Rose Tyler's experiences with a famous Doctor, an alien who travelled through time and space in a machine called the TARDIS, saving the world and human lives, one adventure at a time. And somehow, with that knowledge common-place within Torchwood 1, a sense of unity was created. A community, as you have it. Those who helped to rebuild London in the days after the Cybermen and locking the plant down at Battersea found themselves part of a small family. They had experienced the same horror and fear as loved ones were turned into cyborgs, and felt the same hope and awe as they became the heroes of the day.

So, it was no exception that these people wouldn't band together to re-create Torchwood. And since these people kept each others' secrets, knew their friends' weaknesses and strengths, Pete Tyler found himself, alongside Mickey and Jake, running Torchwood and surviving. Always surviving.

With Rose and Jackie in "Pete's World", though, Pete and Torchwood had nearly limitless information and experience at their disposal in Rose. She had travelled the universe and through time, and knew species of aliens that the budding world never even dreamed existed. So it was then that Pete found himself surprised as the London Torchwood employees – a measly one-hundred-forty-two from the original three-hundred plus pre-Cybermen – closed rank around the Tyler heir.

Every employee knew about Rose Tyler, the Doctor's companion. Every employee knew about Game Station 5. Every employee knew about Bad Wolf and the Heart of the TARDIS. Every employee knew how much Rose loved him, how much she did to save him. Every employee, even the most cynical amongst them, wished that they could re-open the Void and send her through, if only to be with the Doctor again.

_It was all a bit romantic_, Abby had once remarked to Jake in an elevator, _the Doctor, a near Immortal wanderer and the London shop-girl who dreamed big but lived small. They met, saved each other, and fell in love_.

_But he never said it back_, argued Jake. Abby just shook her head.

_Didn't you read the file_? She would reply, and the subject was closed.

So the employees, those lovely, wonderful, loyal and trustworthy employees, kept hoping and waiting and dreaming that their Rose would one day meet the Doctor again. Just once, maybe, to have real closure… a proper goodbye. Or maybe, once more so he could sweep her away, to the stars.

But nearly a year later, the 14th of May, 2007, the Doctor hadn't reappeared and Torchwood, and Rose Tyler, kept on surviving.

With a plus one growing in Rose, of course: the baby of Torchwood, the most precious of all within the organization. And each and every employee would give their life for Rose and the Doctor's baby – because, after all, what makes a better story than the lonely Prince and his lovely, humble companion?

--

Five months after Rose's first doctor appointment, she was finally waddling around her office, and some of the Torchwood employees resorted to Voodoo and as many forgotten and pagan religions as they could find, if only to have their prayers answered.

Rose Tyler, when waddling at fourteen months pregnant, crabby and suffering from weird food cravings (just _what_ was a Shrewiohfodsej dish anyway?), lost her temper at you – you started praying for the Doctor to end your suffering.

And on an overcast, very normal September afternoon, one employees' wish came true: the Void re-opened and a space vessel fell through; a second followed after several hours, landing several hundred miles away from the original crash site.

Rose, however, just like the praying employee, knew nothing about the dual crash. In fact, Rose – by the time Mickey and Jake were deployed out to Sheffield to the first crash location – had succumbed to tears and was sobbingly apologising to the poor delivery boy who learnt he had grabbed the wrong take-out bag.

Rose was blissfully unaware that by dinnertime, her entire safe world would be collapsing. In fact, everyone was unaware of what was about to occur… because that oncoming storm was fast approaching and things were never going to be the same again.

--

"_You could save the world, or save the woman you love."_

"_You are incompatible. You will be deleted."_

_A woman with blonde hair and brown eyebrows, wide, worried brown eyes stares up at him, like he knows just how to save her…_

"_You're just going to leave again, aren't you? Never staying, always going off to the stars."_

"_Doctor… my Doctor…"_

_Another blonde; older, harsher, but just as worried. A young man next to her, staring at him sadly – no, the blonde next to him. They were hurting these people – the girls' mother and friend?_

"_Exterminate!"_

"_No one's meant to look into the heart of the TARDIS! … You're gonna burn and it's all my fault…"_

_Rose…_

_Oh, God, ROSE. His Rose. So much pain, loss, fear, worry…_

"_I see all that was, all that is, and all that ever will be… I create myself, take the words and scatter them through time and space, a message to lead myself here… I am Bad Wolf…"_

_Sparkling brown eyes, tongue at the corner of her mouth when she's teasing him… wide smiles that make the cheeks hurt… _

"_How long are you going to stay with me?"_

"_Forever."_

Never say never ever, Rose.

"_ROSE!"_

--

"Martha, listen to me! It's very important—"

It was the first thing Martha Jones remembered. The Doctor's worried, clipped voice. The face appeared soon after: messy brown hair defying gravity in all directions, the wide, brown eyes with tension lines at the corners; the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; the thin, pinched lips signalling his worry…

Martha's eyes snapped open and she scrambled to a sitting position, ignoring the bite of the TARDIS' control room grates in the palms of her hands. The Doctor – _oh, you can't call him that anymore, can you, Martha?_ – was lying near the jump seat, sprawled on his stomach with his arms akimbo. Martha crawled on hands and knees over to him, gently reaching over and shaking him by the shoulder.

"Doctor?" she winced, thinking how to correct herself. "Sir? You alright?"

The Doctor – no, _he_ – moaned, and rolled over onto his back, hissing as weight was applied to his left wrist.

Martha eyed it critically, noting the swelling. _Not broken, but at least badly sprained_.

"Where…" the husky, confused murmur reached her ears. "Where am I?"

"We've had a bit of a nasty fall, I think," replied Martha, falling back on the story they had created before the Doctor underwent the process of hiding his Time Lord self in the fob watch. Martha had that in her jean pocket, its warmth a comfort.

The now-human Doctor opened his eyes, blinking at the oddly coloured interior of the TARDIS, frowning in confusion. "But… where?"

"Nothing to worry 'bout," smiled Martha, gently urging him to rise, as she would a patient at the hospital. That was all he was now: a patient that she had to care for, at least for the next three months.

_Might not be too bad,_ she thought, _we can be a lovely couple living together. Wherever here is, anyway. _

Together, Martha helped the Doctor to the TARDIS' door, opening it and settling him against the blue exterior. He never looked at what was holding him up, and Martha supposed it was something the ship was doing.

Martha watched the Doctor out of the corner of her eye. He was gingerly holding his wrist, taking deep breaths to find his centre.

"I'm sorry," the man finally chirped, trying to ignore the pain from his wrist. "I don't know your name. Who are you?"

Martha felt her heart break, just a little, at the words. "Martha. Martha Jones." She paused, licking her lips nervously, refusing to look at him from the grass. "And you are?"

He didn't reply right away; apparently trying to dredge his name up from the annals of his mind. "It's John Smith."

Martha looked up now, straight at the Doctor – John Smith. "Pleased to meet you," she said, and meant every word of it.

"Likewise," he manages to reply, smiling widely despite the pain.

Martha opened her mouth to reply. She was going to suggest chips, maybe – or even pizza. God, she hadn't had pizza in ages. She was dying for a pepperoni-mushroom-onion combination.

"Oy! You two – don't fucking move!"

Martha started, and the Doctor – _Smith_, she hissed at herself, _Smith!_ – actually fell to his bum, staring at the man who shouted at them.

Martha felt her cheeks burn; she didn't even check the atmosphere when she helped John Smith out of the TARDIS. Instead, she had barrelled them out of the space machine without a second thought. She hadn't even looked around the make sure they were safe!

Refraining from slapping herself on her forehead, Martha finally took the time to observe her surroundings, and felt shock settle in. She, John Smith and the TARDIS were completely enclosed within a circle of men wearing all-black, high-tech looking guns in their hands.

The man who spoke removed his visor – Martha thought they almost looked like funky Ray-Bans – and lowered his weapon. No one else followed suit, however.

The man was tall, possibly twenty-four or thereabouts, near Martha's own age, with chocolate-coloured skin and his nose slightly turned up above a scowl. Nice features though; and a nice body, all muscle and strength.

Martha raised her arms slowly, signalling her surrender.

John Smith still hadn't moved beyond staring at the man who spoke.

When the man finally glanced at John Smith, wondering why he hadn't complied, he nearly did a double-take. His mouth dropped open slightly, and then his eyes travelled to the TARDIS, and back to the fallen man again.

Frowning, he stepped forward, out of the circle. Martha watched with her heart sinking as the space was filled. They were professionals.

"Doctor?" the man gapped. Martha's own jaw dropped in surprise, just as a few murmurs began to run through the circle. _They knew the Doctor!_

John Smith shook his head, and winced as he struggled to get to his feet. "Erm, sorry… no. John Smith's the name."

The man frowned, as if confused. "But… that's the TARDIS."

"What is?" asked John, looking back over his shoulder. His eyes glazed over, skipping over his space and time machine. The man's frown deepened, and a hand motion caused a spiky, blond-haired man to raise a small pistol at the Doctor.

"No!" called out Martha, but the man had pulled the trigger and John Smith fell to the grass in a heap of arms and legs. "What have you done?" she screamed, turning to the leader.

Instead, he had moved over to the Doctor with long, even paces. Kneeling, he placed his fore and middle finger at the Doctor's neck, checking his heartbeat. He swore under his breath. "Jake!"

The blond-haired man loped forward eagerly. "Yeah, Mick?"

"He's got one heartbeat."

Martha frowned. Just how well did they know the Doctor? Obviously they knew the TARDIS and that he had two hearts… but where were they? And who were they? "Oy!" Martha tried, her impatience winning over logic. "Just who do you think you are? And what have you done to him? We weren't going to hurt you!"

"Shut it," snapped the one called Mick, keeping his back to the companion. "He's more important at the moment."

Martha felt stung, and completely dismissed. He had never turned around to speak to her. She tried again. "My name's Martha. I'm his girlfriend, so I demand to be told what you think you're doing!"

This time, she received a reaction. A swift, angry one.

Mick stood straight and faced Martha, a fire in his eyes, his expression set in stone.

"Careful Mickey," urged another member of the group, lowering his gun slightly.

"His girlfriend?" Mickey began harshly, "I don't think so."

Martha tilted her chin up and stuck to her story. "I am so! His name is John Smith, and we're from London, and—"

"His name is the Doctor, that's his TARDIS which stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space machine, he's a Time Lord, he's met Cleopatra and Madam du Pompadour and he takes _companions_ with him, not girlfriends," snapped Mickey back, standing nearly toe-to-toe with Martha. "Now, Martha, just who are you?"

Blinking, and trying to regain control, Martha asked in a breath, "Martha Jones. From London. And he's the Doctor."

Mickey nodded. "Good. And how did you get here?"

Martha's shoulders slumped. God, she was in for it later when the Doctor got his memory back. "We were being followed. We just got back from answering a distress signal from this space ship when we realised we were being followed. We tried to planet-hop, as the Doctor called it, but we couldn't shake them. Finally, the Doctor figured out who it was. He called them 'the Family.'"

Mickey frowned, and Martha watched behind him as Jake and someone else lifted the Doctor onto a stretcher. They loaded him onto a black van, with an oddly shaped logo on its side: several white hexagons in the shape of the letter 'T.'

"Who are the Family?" asked Mickey.

She shrugged. "Not a clue. All he said was that they needed a Time Lord's essence and that after three months they would die. Like mayflies. So he hid what made him a Time Lord in this," she continued, holding out the fob watch, "and told me to keep it with me, to protect it. He gave me a list of things to watch out for… but we didn't have a destination in mind or anything. The TARDIS just took control and then things got bumpy and sparks were everywhere and then we fell… and ended up here."

The frown on Mickey's face deepened. His eyes – brown, Martha noticed absently – searched hers, and finally, _finally_, he nodded. "Alright. You're coming with us."

"Sorry?" she squeaked. "I don't even know who you are! And where are you taking the Doctor!"

"I'm Mickey Smith," replied the man, a small, hesitant smile on his face, "And I'm the head of the Leo team at Torchwood 1. And you and the Doctor are coming with me."

Twenty minutes later, Martha found herself strapped into a plastic seat on a zeppelin; her pulse was a rapid tattoo and she could still feel and heat from Mickey's controlling but gentle hand wrapped around her upper arm.

The Doctor had been strapped completely down to the stretcher, and locked in near the head of the seats, all which faced each other, sideways.

"So, where exactly are we?" asked Martha, her voice faint. Her head was spinning. _Zeppelins_!

"You're on an alternative Earth," offered Jake, looking up from the pistol he was cleaning. "You're from Mickey's London, I suspect."

Martha glanced in surprise at the leader of Leo. "You're not from here?"

He shook his head. "No. I decided to stay behind though, and not go back with the Doctor and…" he cleared his throat, shifting nervously in his seat. "Anyway, my Gran was still alive here, and I could make a difference." He gave a wry grin. "No more Mickey-the-idiot."

"Never," vowed one of the others on the team. They all laughed and Martha found herself smiling along with them.

"So how long did you travel with the Doctor?" she asked, barely noticing the lift-off.

Mickey shrugged. "Not long. Barely a couple of weeks. I joined him because my friend was with him at the time. They'd been with him… oh, maybe about two years by that point?"

"Two years!" Martha was surprised. She had barely been with the Doctor four months.

Mickey nodded. "Yeah. And you?"

"About four months," replied Martha absently, "I need to get back soon so I can continue studying to be a doctor."

"A real one?" Mickey teased.

Martha smiled back.

As Mickey eased back into the seat, he crossed a leg ankle-over-knee, and almost too casually, asked, "So how well do you know the Doctor?"

Sensing that something was up, and that she had better think about her replies first, Martha copied Mickey's movement and settled back into her seat. "Well enough I suppose."

"Have you met any of his other companions? 'Cept he used to call them assistants."

Martha shook her head. "No… it's been just us. Although, he mentioned that the last person he travelled with was gone. And that I wasn't replacing her." Bitterness crept into her voice, barely noticeable to Martha who used it all the time when thinking or talking about _her_. She didn't notice the Leo team sitting straighter or the tense posture Mickey adopted.

"We met Shakespeare, you know. And we were in the middle of this adventure, trying to figure it out. I guess I got a bit flirty coz there was only one bed… anyway, he was being all moody, the Doctor, and then out of nowhere, he just went: _Rose would know_. It's always been Rose. All the bloody time."

"I'm sure he had a good reason," suggested Mickey, but Martha didn't look up. She shrugged, and he continued: "You know, he never mentioned those who travelled with him previously. When we met Sarah Jane, things were pretty tense. I remember joking to him, 'the missus and the ex' and he got this strange look on his face…"

"Odd," replied Martha, "he mentions Rose _all the time_." She took a deep breath. "I mean, who was she anyway? And why did she leave him? She must be a real bitch if she just up and swanned off doing God's knows what, leaving him all alone and thinking about her day and night…"

Martha finally looked up, and paused. Despite Mickey's nonchalant pose on his seat, he, along with the rest of the team, were prepared to fight.

"What? What is it?" she asked, frightened. "Oh God, there isn't some sort of invasion, is there?"

Mickey shook his head. "You don't know him at all, do you?"

Frowning, Martha argued, "Of course I do! I know all about Gallifrey, and that he likes helping people, and then he tries to stop people from feeling pain, and that's he has to _lick_ everything…" she trailed off when she saw she wasn't convincing Mickey and his friends.

"You don't know him at all," murmured Mickey. "Did you know he's allergic to aspirin? It can kill him. Do you know anything about the Time War? Did you know he was a father once? Was married?"

Martha's jaw dropped at the final two revelations. _"What?"_ she gasped out.

Shaking his head, Mickey leaned forward, both feet firmly on the metal floor of the zeppelin. "Martha, you don't know him. Rose did, and that's why he's always mentioning her. Do you know anything about how she left?"

Martha shook her head in response. Did he know Rose?

Everyone ignored the loud snore that the Doctor – John Smith – gave off.

"Rose Tyler," he began, answering her question with steely voice and glint in his eyes, "is my best friend. She travelled with the Doctor who two years. I was pulled into the police station five times for being a murder suspect because they missed a year. I watched them grow closer and closer and I lost Rose as my girlfriend. I saw how the Doctor acted towards Rose before his regeneration, and I saw how he hurt her after his regeneration with the whole Madam du Pompadour thing. I was there when Rose made her decision to be with him forever, leaving me and her mum behind in this alternate universe.

"I was there when Pete saved her from being sucked into the Void with the Daleks and Cybermen. I was there when Rose cried, and I was there when she said goodbye to the Doctor, saying she loved him."

Martha hadn't known.

"And Rose Tyler happens to be my boss's daughter. My boss happens to run Torchwood 1. And it's to Torchwood 1 that we're arriving at in about ten minutes."

--

After the horrible incident with the delivery boy, Rose found she couldn't even stand the sight of melted cheese over a bun with several types of vegetables. The smell was causing her stomach to roll and Rose finally had enough.

She waddled. She constantly had to pee. She could only sometimes see her toes in the shower. Sometimes she still got morning sickness, but mostly, she just got tired. She wanted this baby out, and she wanted it out _now_.

"Abby?" called Rose, her voice wobbling. She laid her head down across her arm on her desk, the other cradling her stomach protectively.

"Rose?"

Rose looked up and saw Mark Spanos, a middle-aged employee of hers, stick his head into her office. "Is everything alright?" he asked, glancing around the light and airy room. Perhaps the potted plants were really evil alien things? Or maybe that framed picture of her brother on her modern, all-glass desk was really a mind-control device?

She shook her head, slowly rising to her swollen feet. Mark was at her side in an instant, an arm around her.

"What is it?"

"I think I need to see Tosh," Rose murmured, giving the older man a gentle smile. She knew how everyone worried over her; hell, even the security guards at the bottom level of Torchwood Tower were eager to carry her things and give her a helping hand. And they never let her go by herself to her car.

Mark nodded worriedly, and together they shuffled out of her office. Abby wasn't at her desk in the hallway, but the phone wasn't ringing and all her filing was done.

"I'll find her for you, once you're safely at the medical wing," offered Mark, sensing her glance. He smiled down at Rose and squeezed her shoulder gently. "C'mon, Bad Wolf, let's see how Theta is doing."

Rose smiled at the endearment, two words which once ruined her life, and the recent nickname for her unborn child.

One of the scientists had come up with, under the impression that since the Doctor could travel through space and time, his offspring might be able to do so as well… and the Greek symbol _theta_ was also known to measure the rate of time decay on a daily basis. Meaning: someone's appearance versus their true age, which is what the formula was most well-known for. Therefore, since the Doctor never aged but rather regenerated, and the gestation period for a Gallifreyan seemed to be longer than the normal, defying time, the nickname Theta stuck.

After thirty minutes of shuffling and one elevator ride later, Mark left Rose at the door of the medical wing, handing her with care to Dr. Owen Harper, who gently ushered her into the med bay.

"Gonna have to be a bit patient, Rose," said Owen quietly. "Tosh's looking at someone Mickey's team brought in."

"Oh?" Rose asked, frowning and looking up at Owen. He dark-haired man nodded.

"Apparently something crashed near Sheffield and he and Leo were sent out to examine it. They brought back two people. One was injured, brining them here and the other is with Jake down near the lower levels. Couldn't let them up, of course," the doctor continued.

"I hadn't realised that something had gone on," admitted Rose. "Anything alien I need to look at later?"

Owen frowned. "I doubt it. You know Pete's gonna shit kittens, Rose. He's going to probably send you home with Abby and Mickey."

Rose sighed, not arguing. She knew how to pick her battles. Owen smiled and together they entered the medical wing.

--

_"You're not going to see me again. Not with this daft old face."_

_"Rose! Doctor! You're back!"_

_The sensations of a hand slipping into his; soft, warm, comforting…_

_"Burn with me…"_

_"… if there's one thing I believe in, it's that I believe in Rose Tyler!"_

_"A north wind blows and carries down the distant... Rose?"_

_Anger, strong and fierce, running through his veins…and sadness so deep he aches down to his very being: "Oh big mistake! Because that name keeps me fighting!"_

Rose.

--


	2. Chapter 2

Synchronicity

Synchronicity

Kneazle

**Disclaimer**: Belongs to BBC and Russell T Davies and all those lovely, lovely people in England. Which I am not.

**Notes**: I'm done with school! I'm done with school… forever! Whee! Okay, note time:

- I've tried to keep Mickey, Rose and Doctor's accents and vernacular as canon-compliant as possible;  
- I haven't finished watching Torchwood, series 1 yet, so I'm sure Tosh and Owen are _not_ like their canon-selves;  
- I've tried to explain why Torchwood knows about the Doctor and why it's safe. Truthfully, I'd keep it a secret too, but I'm going under the assumption that this world is as close as you're going to get to a utopia (and not the episode), so that's why Torchwood 1 is good. I hope that gels with people.

--

_For aught that I could ever read,__  
__Could ever hear by tale or history,__  
__The course of true love never did run smooth._  
– William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "A Midsummer Night's Dream," 1.1

--

_Chapter Two_

Tosh had been working at Torchwood for nearly two years now. Before, she worked for the President as his top doctor and diagnostic. When the Cybermen took over London, Tosh locked herself in the morgue and shivered with cold, hoping that the abnormally cool temperatures of the chilled room would mask her own body heat and the Cybermen would ignore her.

Somehow, someway, they did.

Her staff and several guards weren't so lucky. Several lay dead when she finally emerged after hearing the explosions, and many, many more were missing.

Two months after that fateful day, Tosh was in Cardiff, chasing a small cluster of Cybermen who remained. She didn't chase them with the thought of destroying the Cybermen, but rather, dealing with the aftermath. It was there that she met Pete Tyler, suffering from numerous lacerations that she treated behind a dumpster at four in the morning.

She continued travelling with him and listened to his stories in awe.

_A man called the Doctor, and a girl who claimed she was your daughter from another world?_ She asked.

Pete had nodded. _They saved us all. Them, and Mickey Smith and Jake Simmonds._ Pete had looked away, towards the horizon, and continued: _They're still out there, those two. The Doctor and… Rose… went back to her world. To her Jackie._

_Jackie?_

_My wife._

And then, Pete Tyler had told her about the dinner party for Jackie, her thirty-ninth birthday – not fortieth – and Lumic and the Cybermen, and then the Doctor and Rose and Mickey and the Preachers. It all meshed together and Tosh wasn't sure he wasn't just making it up.

Then, when they made it back to London with several others they picked up along the way, they met the Cybermen again. This time, Mickey and Jake were there, and Tosh finally learned the truth: they were the stuff of legends.

Together, the group locked all the Cybermen up in their plants, and they stormed Torchwood 1.

Two days' later, Torchwood was theirs: dusty, blood-stained, smelling of rot and sweat and piss and something metallic that Tosh didn't want to think about, with cables and wires hanging all over the place. Starting from the bottom up, Pete Tyler and the others began to salvage what they could; Mickey, a whiz with computers, managed to jack into numerous government systems and CCTVs. Torchwood was back.

Of course, as soon as they noticed the Cybermen disappearing and the global temperature rising, they knew something was up. As quickly and efficiently as they could, they created the trans-dimension buttons, and Mickey volunteered to go through first.

Tosh and Owen Harper waited impatiently after Jake and Pete went through with a strike team, sure that they'd have some casualties. But ten minutes passed, and nothing happened. Twenty; then thirty.

Anxiety was pouring from Tosh and Owen's bodies.

"Think something happened? That they're stuck there?" he asked.

Tosh shook her head. "The plan was fool-proof. It's all good. Just wait."

Forty minutes, fifty.

Then, at one hour and fourteen minutes later, Pete, Mickey and Jake returned. A short, slightly dumpy blonde-haired woman was standing next to Pete, looking around curiously, but her attention seemed to thrum with awareness of another blonde who stood a bit away from the group.

She was looking about, confused, before realizing what happened. "No!" she gasped. And before anyone could move – though Mickey shouted "Rose, no!" – she slammed her hands back onto the yellow button and disappeared.

"Rose!" wailed the remaining blonde, clutching Mickey's sleeve. "Bring her back, Mickey, _bring her back_!"

Mickey was staring at the spot, his face drawn. "You knew it was always the Doctor over us, Jackie. It always has been."

The group stood around, morose, and Pete stepped hesitantly closer and wrapped his arms around the woman named Jackie. Tosh took a single step forward, ready to offer aid, but Pete shook his head. She stepped back again.

"She's all I've got," murmured Jackie, clutching Pete's shirt, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "All I've got left. Please." She looked up at Pete Tyler. "_Please_. She's my daughter."

Barely five minutes had past, and Pete spent a few endless moments staring at Jackie, right in her eyes. In what seemed like years ago, he had looked a similar, younger face in the eyes and said, "Don't. Just _don't_," at her plea of "Dad…" Pete nodded once and made up his mind, moving toward the white wall.

He turned and slammed his hands down on his yellow trans-dimension link and disappeared. Seconds later, he reappeared with the blonde, Rose, in his arms. She broke away with a gasp, and flung herself at the white wall in the Ghost Room, her forehead leaning up against it as tears streaked down her cheeks, turning them black from her mascara.

She pounded on the wall with one hand, and Tosh watched with unrestrained sympathy.

"No," she gasped between heaving sobs, "No…"

Pete removed the button link from around his neck, looking at it in wonder, while Jackie and Mickey stared at Rose. "It worked… he closed the rift."

"Pete, d'you want me to…?" Tosh let the question die off, gesturing loosely at the sobbing teenager against the wall. She had quieted, pressing against it as if she could hear someone from the other side.

Pete shook his head, minutely, and the group watched Rose Tyler break down. It was the first time that Tosh saw the girl completely lose control and it was also the last time. It was also the first time that Tosh realised how much the Doctor meant to Rose.

A few months later and Torchwood 1 learned all about Rose Tyler and the Doctor from Gallifrey. Despite the fact that the Doctor was an alien and that Rose and Mickey had travelled with him, and the possible dangers involved of an entire organisation knowing the truth about them, Torchwood managed to keep things under wraps. The whole ideology of the Doctors – what went against the original Torchwood charter of "if it's alien, it's ours." – was promptly applied and suddenly Torchwood wasn't about defending the Earth against aliens, but rather learning from them and respecting their cultures.

So, the story of Rose and the Doctor was a legend and completely romantic and Tosh easily saw the effect that the Doctor had on a London estate girl who used to work at a Henrick's. He changed the people he met, and he changed Rose Tyler.

When Torchwood learned Rose was pregnant Tosh immediately jumped to help, despite her expertise as a technician; she did have formal training as a medical doctor and her months following Cybermen only added to her repertoire. She knew her way around basic medicine and thought she could at least offer help and companionship to the girl who lacked girl friends. Rose had been grateful and the two had a steady friendship; they weren't the best of friends, but they got along well enough.

Tosh and Owen got along well enough too despite his gruff exterior and sleazy attitude towards women; he was a field doctor and had been a great asset after the Cyber attacks, and was the doctor in residence in Torchwood. He was incredibly protective of Rose and her baby though, and she was the only woman he didn't try to flirt with. He never explained why she seemed to be the sole exception to the rule, but Tosh was fairly certain it was because her ex-boyfriend was Mickey Smith and he once saw Jake Simmonds snap a man's neck for roughing Rose up during her first field mission when she froze (and no one wanted to mess with Mickey's boyfriend; after all, both were part of the extended Tyler family and incredibly close to Rose. Yet, there were still days when Owen slipped up.).

Speaking of which, Owen was currently exiting his office with his leather jacket over his arm.

"Going out?" asked Tosh, glancing up from a LCD screen, monitoring a field agent's heartbeat. He had received a nasty electrical shock during a weapons test several days ago.

Owen nodded, running a hand through his dark brown hair. "Lunch hour. Goin' to the pub 'round the corner," he said in his natural Welsh accent, with a slightly sarcastic tinge. "Mind holdin' down the place if it's not too much trouble for you?"

"Not a problem, Owen." Tosh was _always_ polite.

Owen nodded and swiftly left the hospital wing without saying a goodbye, his footsteps fading. Silence descended on the wing and Tosh found herself moving to her office. There, she read over several of Rose's medical files. From what she could gather, and Rose offered, she was finally in the final month of her pregnancy (hopefully). Even Tosh didn't want to deal with Rose's mercurial mood swings anymore; they were off the wall.

She was so engrossed in the medical files that she didn't hear Owen's desk phone ring; no one, especially at Torchwood, wore the earPods anymore—being connected to Cybus Industries once upon a time and losing control was paramount to idiocy nowadays, and Torchwood took their responsibilities seriously. When her desk phone began to ring, though, Tosh jumped, startled, but reached for the phone and removed it from its cradle.

"Tosh here," she said into the mouthpiece.

"Tosh, hey, it's Mickey," began the familiar voice. "I'm bringin' someone up for you t' check out. He's knocked unconscious but other than that there's nothin' wrong. I just want you t' do a full scan."

"Then why are you bringing him here?" she asked, frowning, tapping a manicured nail on her desk.

She heard Mickey sigh, and some rustling against the phone. "Look… it's…" He sighed again. "We found him at the site, Tosh. It's _him_."

"Who?"

"Who d'you think?" replied Mickey, with a bit of snark. Tosh felt her insides drop, and she sat heavily down on her desk chair.

She breathed noisily and heavily into the phone and then asked, slowly, "are you sure?"

"Very. It's him."

"But why knock him….?" She didn't finish the question.

"You'll understand when I bring him up. Tosh, _please_. Is Harper there t' oversee this?"

Tosh shook her head, felt a bit silly, and verbally replied, "Just left for lunch."

She heard Mickey swear on the other end of the line, but then he murmured, "Fine. Just get ready, 'kay? And _don't let Rose know_."

"Why not?" Tosh felt indignation rise through her quickly and furiously; Rose was her friend and completely deserved to know if her lover was back in this world, especially as she was pregnant with his child.

Mickey sighed again. "You'll see when I get there."

"Enigmatic. Thanks Mickey."

"Yeah, well," he offered in reply, and then hung up.

Tosh sighed, returning the phone to its cradle, and rose unsteadily from the chair. She'd best make one of the beds free and prepare whatever files she had on the Doctor. Goodness knows what Mickey did to the alien; he was probably shot with elephant tranquilizer and would wake up craving pickles or something.

Twenty minutes later, Mickey arrived with another member of his team; between them was a stretcher with the Doctor lying on it peacefully—if one ignored his loud snores.

Tosh stared. "Somehow, when I was reading the files on him, and listening to Rose, I never thought he was the snoring type."

"Just be glad you didn't see him exhale clouds of yellow energy," replied Mickey, carefully manoeuvring the Time Lord onto the bed Tosh had prepared. "I just need you to do some basic tests."

"Like what?" asked Tosh, reaching for her stethoscope; two hearts, she couldn't wait to hear them!

"Like that," Mickey nodded at the stethoscope, "an' then check his wrist. That's it."

Tosh glanced up, puzzled, even as she moved next to the sleeping alien. "Are you sure…?"

Mickey nodded, glancing at his fellow team member, who recognised the dismissal. Tosh had unbuttoned the Doctor's suit jacket and had smoothed the lapels away to view his vest and undershirt. "You'll understand in a second."

Tosh raised her eyebrows but nodded, frowning. She unbuttoned the vest and placed the stethoscope over the left side of the Doctor's torso on his shirt: a steady, strong heartbeat. Then, she slipped it over to the right; her eyes widened.

"He's got one heartbeat," she breathed, "he's only got one heart!" She looked up in surprise, and a little bit of disappointment; all her dreams and thoughts about the Doctor were now popped bubbles.

"He's made himself into a human," muttered Mickey, almost darkly, a ridge appearing between his eyebrows.

Tosh's mouth dropped open. "How?"

Mickey turned away from Tosh and the Doctor, staring at the far wall of the clinically white and pale blue medical bay. "He's being followed by some alien family; his companion explained it t' me. We'll get more on them once she tells us everythin' that's happened since he picked her up, of course, and add it t' the Torchwood record of him… but until then…"

"Until then?" prompted Tosh softly, staring at Mickey's back; it was thick and wide, indicating that he was still wearing the Kevlar vest underneath his Torchwood-issued field jacket.

"He says his name is John Smith." Mickey turned around, his expression dark and fierce. "You call him that. We'll get his story out of him an' we'll go along with it until we know everything about this Family of Blood. We'll protect him, and Rose, an' her sprog. I _am not_ lettin' anythin' happen to any of them."

Tosh nodded. "None of us will." She looked back down at the sleeping alien, and felt a soft smile come to her lips. "You go and learn what you can from the companion… she, you said?"

"Martha Jones. I'm gonna see if she's in this world too. Can't have two Marthas runnin' about," supplied Mickey, a firm nod. "Also, call Pete and let him know, will you? I don't fancy knowin' how he's gonna stop Jackie from slappin' the Doctor one when they finally meet."

Tosh shared a grin with Mickey and she watched silently as he left the medical bay. She had her orders; watch John "I'm really an alien Time Lord called the Doctor" Smith and call Pete Tyler to update him. Tosh grimaced, suddenly realising it was going to be long day.

--

_"WHAT?"_

Pete Tyler, known internationally as the inventor and entrepreneur of Vitex energy drinks and only to a select few as the Director of Torchwood 1, stood up so quickly his comfy, leather chair rolled away from him with enough force to his the back wall in his office.

"Say that again, Tosh, and slowly this time so I know I'm not dreaming," the ginger man said through gritted teeth.

"I said, sir, that the Doctor is here in the medical bay… only that he's registering at completely human. He's only got one heart, and Mickey Smith came in with him, stating that he's apparently hidden his Time Lord essence in a fob watch left to his latest companion."

Pete felt a headache coming on. Oh, there wasn't a day that didn't go by since Jackie was returned to him that he didn't wish he could thank the Doctor personally for what he did; and ever since he and Rose bonded, he had hoped the Doctor would return to come for her and their child. But now that he was actually here… and without his memories…

"Will he remember her?" Pete suddenly asked, quietly, fearfully. He could not imagine what Rose's reaction would be if she met the Doctor while he was John Smith, and didn't remember her. It would break her heart, and possibly break her in a way that Bad Wolf Bay and the initial separation didn't.

Tosh paused at the other end of the line, and Pete knew the answer. _I don't know_, she was thinking, and it was broadcasting loud and clear.

Pete reached backwards and groped blindly for his chair, finally grasping it and settling down heavily. Holding the phone in one hand, and his head in the other, he sighed. "All right, Tosh… all right, this is what we're going to do: you're going to make sure Rose doesn't see him until we get everything from his companion. I'll want to know _everything_. After all, we'll ease her into it, and then she can see him. You just treat him like he's a random bloke who hit his head and fell upon a police investigation. Don't say anything, don't let him see anything, and whatever happens, don't let him see Rose or hear her name!"

When Tosh didn't reply right away, Pete felt anger stirring. What game was she playing at? This was his daughter and grandchild's life she was playing with! He wasn't just about to let her heart get broken all over again. "Toshiko?"

"I think it's a little late for all that, sir," came a tight, wobbly voice. "Owen just walked in with Rose."

_Fuck_.

How the hell was he going to explain this to Jackie?

_Double fuck_.

--

"_Am I ever going to see you again?"_

"… _You can't."_

"_Rose, her name was Rose… we were… together. – Not that you're replacing her."_

_Bright lights, golden swirls of colour and warmth and everything that reminded him of home and family and friends and love… of Rose._

"_Whatever you've done to Rose's head I want it reversed!"_

_"New-New Doctor."_

_"He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And... he's wonderful."_

--

The dizziness was subsiding as Rose took deep breaths just outside the medical bay, with Owen gripping her arm. He was impatient today; there were no inconsequential mutterings about the baby or the weather—he was looking around the hallway, his eyes darting from object to object (which wasn't much, it was a fairly plain and boring hallway with no pictures and only a few fire extinguishers every couple meters and broom cupboard doors).

"We can go in now, Owen," said Rose, ignoring his impatience. She dealt with Mickey all her life, she could handle him. _Sometimes_, she admitted silently.

"No, can't; Tosh's got someone in there."

"So?"

Owen shot Rose an unreadable look between half-lowered lids. "I heard they got them from the recent site. What if it's an alien that's got some weird disease and will harm you or the baby?"

Rose frowned, recognising the intelligence behind the question, but a twinge in her lower body had Rose firmly not caring. "Lookit – I need to pee. So either open the doors and let me in, or clean up a puddle later."

Owen nodded, cowed, and together they shuffled through the wide, double-doors. Tosh was standing by her desk, staring at them in shock; her eyes quickly darted down to the phone cradle and then to a curtained bed, and then back to Rose.

Panic. There was panic in her eyes.

Rose saw Tosh mumble something into the phone and then wince; but she dutifully and carefully hung up, stepping out of her glassed office with a forced, bright smile.

"Owen, it's already been an hour? Wow, that went by fast," she exclaimed, but then her face did turn into sincere concern, "Rose! What's wrong?"

"Just got a bit dizzy, s'hat all," she murmured, ducking her head and rubbing her protruding stomach absently.

"Anything with the baby?"

"Kickin' a bit, yeah, but nothin' else," replied Rose. "I just want 'im out."

"Him?" asked Owen, entering the conversation as he drew his lab coat on. "So sure it's male?"

"Well, I'm not goin' t' call 'im _it_, am I?" Rose bit back, trying to keep her conversational tone light. She couldn't help it if she was still hungry for lunch despite the earlier mix up.

Owen sighed. "Just go and sit on that bed, over there," he said, pointing at the one near the curtained section, "and we'll check you over for any problems."

"Ummm," began Tosh, "How about we do this in my office?"

Both Rose and Owen turned to stare at Tosh, in surprise.

"Maybe not," she murmured back, sighing. She tried, she would tell Director Tyler. She tried.

"Is this–?" Owen didn't finish his sentence. Tosh seemed to just right into his train of thought.

Rose sighed. All this over a stupid alien? "I don't care where you put me, but figure it out. I need t' pee. When I get back, have a space ready, yeah?"

As Rose shuffled out of sight, towards the staff toilets near the offices and away from the medical ward, Tosh eased a sigh of relief.

"That bad then?" Owen asked, "'Cause you did _such_ a great job of deflecting attention there, Tosh."

"It's him."

"Who?"

"The Doctor."

Silence descended on the medical bay. Owen had turned to face Tosh completely, a flabbergasted look covering his face. "How?" he finally managed to croak out.

Tosh shrugged. "Mickey'll have the details, but for now, all you need to know is that he's human."

"He's a Time Lord. Alien."

"And apparently he's human now."

"How?"

Tosh eyeballed Owen. "Does it look like I'm a genius in alien technology, Owen?"

At Owen's raised eyebrows, Tosh snapped: "Don't answer that!" and turned away, pushing the curtains back. The snoring had stopped some time ago, and now the tall, lanky man was sleeping peacefully, his hands folded across his chest and the blanket at his waist.

"Christ," breathed Owen as he stepped up beside Tosh. "That's him?"

Tosh nodded; together they tried to see the all-power Time Lord that could see timelines and help save worlds – or destroy them.

"He's a bit skinny, isn't he?" Owen finally said. "And all that hair!"

Tosh gave a pointed look at Owen's carefully styled hair. He had the presence of mind to shuffle in embarrassment.

Owen was going to reply, his mouth open and facial expression slightly dark, when the Doctor moaned, rousing himself from unconsciousness.

"Ooooh, my head," he moaned, a hand slowly reaching up to rub at a spot.

Tosh and Owen shared a panicked look, one glance over their shoulders at the loos, and then Tosh was darting forward. "Afternoon, sir," she began cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I took a nasty fall," the alien continued.

Tosh adopted a pained expression. "I'm afraid that you did. You and your friend stumbled onto a police crime scene and you slipped and bumped your head. We've brought you here so we could make sure you're okay."

The Doctor opened his eyes, and immediately Tosh couldn't sense anything _off_ about him; usually alien technology or aliens gave an otherworldly feel, of either being stronger, better, more intelligent, something that defined them differently to a human being on a primal level – but this Doctor felt… like… a regular bloke.

"Erm," he began, slowly sitting up. His eyes spotted Tosh and Owen, who stood a bit behind, and his eyes lit up. "Oh, hello!"

"Hello," replied Tosh and Owen in union, almost dully and a little surprised.

"Where am I?" the alien continued.

Tosh visibly paused. Then, answered in precise calmness, "The medical bay."

The Doctor paused, nodded and said, "Oh. Well. Great!"

Owen, eager to get some answers and knock the man out before Rose returned, hastened forward. "What's your name?" he asked.

"John Smith."

Owen startled. _John Smith? John SMITH? A dull, boring name like John Smith?_ "Oh. Uh… welcome to our medical bay, Mr. Smith. Do you remember anything about yourself? Family we should call? Wife? Children? Where your home is?"

John Smith – because they couldn't call him the Doctor, not when he really _wasn't_ – looked a bit confused, but tried to provide answers. "Um, no, no wife. No kids. And… I think home is Gallifrey."

"Is that in Ireland?" asked Tosh, eyeing Smith warily.

The man brightened. "Yes, it is!"

"You're Irish?"

"Um, well, no, actually," hedged John Smith, plucking at the blanket. "From London."

"Well, it's a good thing we're in London then," replied Owen easily, slipping into his role of doctor; he reached for the stethoscope and listened to the man's single heart, his own beating in double time. Rose would be back any second – what were they going to do? What _could_ they do?

"Really? I'm in London? That's great. I really don't remember what happened before the fall. I suppose it must have been an absolute nasty one," blubbered Smith, happily chatting away. "I remember I once took this nasty fall into a hole and I was sure that there was no end to it."

"Tosh? Owen?"

The plaintive, weak call made the three turn to look at Rose, who was pale and leaning against a medical bed, her hair shielding her face. She was shaking.

"I think I didn't eat enough t'day," she murmured, slowly raising her head, before her eyes settled on John Smith.

It was like a spark of recognition, of _something else_, passed between the two; Smith visibly jumped on the bed, his brown eyes wide as he stared back at Rose, who had begun to sway.

_Rose?_ A voice whispered across Smith's mind, but the man leaped out of bed and wound an arm across the blonde's shoulders, gently leading her to the bed he just vacated. Rose was far too shocked to even say anything.

"Blimey, look at you! You should sit down, have something to drink. Apple juice? Maybe orange? A good banana would help too, you know. Good source of potassium!" Smith babbled, pushing the pregnant woman down onto the bed while Tosh and Owen leapt into action around him.

Tosh made for a telephone, and Owen pulled out numerous medical accessories to check Rose's blood levels, heartbeat, and even gel if he needed to do a scan of her baby.

Rose stifled a laugh. "Bananas?" she asked, finally looking up at Smith, who hadn't realised his arm was still around her shoulders and he was gingerly sitting at the edge of the small bed.

"Bananas," the man replied, nodding firmly. Colour seemed to then spread across his cheeks as he looked down at Rose, noticing how close he was sitting to her and that his right hand was rubbing gentle circles into her shoulder. "Umm," he slowly moved away from Rose, nearly stumbling to his feet. He stuck out a hand. "John Smith."

Warily, Rose reached out and shook the offered hand, sucking in a barely audible breath (Owen heard anyway and gave her a vaguely concerned glance). John Smith had one, slightly fast-beating pulse. He wasn't the Doctor, despite looking exactly like him.

"Rose Tyler," she offered, her hand falling to her lap and resting on the lower curve of her stomach.

John Smith seemed slightly startled, like the name was familiar and recognition appeared in his eyes – just for a moment – but then they glossed over and it was gone. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, so very like the Doctor, and opened his mouth to speak.

Then shut it. And then opened it; then closed it and cleared his throat and began, "Ah… is, is that woman calling your husband?" he glanced over at Tosh, who was speaking lowly into the telephone, her back to those in the medical bay. Realising what he asked, Smith back paddled quickly. "I mean, that is, it's none of my business, rather – if you have a husband or not – I mean, of course you would, being beautiful and all, who wouldn't want you? Erm, that's not what I meant… I mean, you are beautiful but – bother."

Rose offered a smile to the flustered man, who had a becoming shade of pink stretching across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, covering his freckles. In response, Rose held up her left hand, fingers spread, for him to see.

"Not married," she replied softly, and Owen tightened the blood pressure cuff a little tightly in response; the two shared an unreadable look.

"Ah." John Smith seemed unsure about what to say next. "Boyfriend?"

Rose paused. "He's gone now," she said, looking away from Smith. "We were separated and can't see each other ever again."

"I'm sorry," Smith replied after a moment of silence, his voice soft and tinged with regret; he hadn't meant to bring painful memories up for her.

Rose shrugged. "S'all right, I suppose. Got this little sprog, don't I? Somethin' t' remind me about 'im."

She and John shared a grin, and Owen watched on with an increasingly worried expression. Just when he was about to suggest that John take another bed – so he could stick a needle filled with morphine into the man's system, or something else – Mickey Smith skidded into the medical bay, breathing heavily.

"Took the stairs, did you?" asked Owen sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the man's huffing.

But Mickey wasn't listening; he was staring at Rose and John Smith. The man who wasn't quite the Doctor was still standing near Rose, almost protectively, despite his hands in his pockets. His entire body was turned to face Rose, and he was watching her face for her reactions; Rose was leaning slightly towards the man, as well, and Mickey saw it: there was still a connection between the two, regardless of what the Doctor had done to himself.

"Rose! What happened? Tosh called an' said that you were dizzy – how's the baby? Is he okay?" Mickey asked, stepping up to the bed, eyeing the human Doctor out of the corner of his eye.

_Aha!_ Thought Mickey, as he noticed the man step closer to Rose. _Just like ol' big ears – can't have anyone else right next to her!_

"M'fine," replied Rose. "And so's Theta."

The man beside Rose twitched. "Theta?" he asked, in a slightly garbled voice.

Rose looked up at the man – Mickey knew that expression. Wariness with trust and love all rolled into one. Rose wanted him to be the Doctor, and it _seemed_ like it was him… but it wasn't, so she was being careful.

"He… he travelled a lot, an' was big into the sciences," explained Rose slowly, carefully. "Had interesting ideas 'bout time travel. So we nicknamed the sprog after the Greek symbol for time."

Mickey didn't want to interrupt. John Smith – the Doctor, or whoever he was – was staring at Rose and she was looking back at him, and Mickey knew that look all too well. They _always_ had it on their faces, especially toward the end. Lovesick, the two of them. Like they're the only two in the universe.

"Rose," began Mickey, stepping a bit closer to the bed, "Pete called your mum."

Rose tore her eyes away from Smith's brown ones and stared at Mickey in horror. "No."

"Yes," Mickey nodded. "She's on her way to take you home. Abby's gonna go with you."

Rose sighed, defeated. She'd argue later. Crossing her arms, she settled, disgruntled, against the headboard and pillow.

"As for you, Mr. Smith," began Mickey, turning to the man, who had been looking down at Rose with a slightly fond smile, "I've spoken with your companion an' I just need to go over a few things with you before we can let you go. If you don't mind?"

Smith nodded, and glanced once more back at Rose before turning away and following the tall man out of the medical bay. Owen was still running a few tests from Rose's side, and Tosh was watching carefully from her office, her eyes worried.

At the doors, John Smith turned around a final time, meeting Rose's eyes. Again, the spark was there.

_"Rose Tyler… I—"_

Now all he had to do was figure out who the hell she was and how he knew her, and why she was so deeply ingrained in his very being.

_Whoever she was, Rose Tyler_, Smith decided, was someone he wanted to get to know better.

--

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Synchronicity

Kneazle

**Disclaimer**: Belongs to BBC and Russell T Davies and all those lovely, lovely people in England. Which I am not.

**Summary**: Set during 'Human Nature.' Instead of 1913, the TARDIS falls through the Void and lands in Rose's alternate world… but the Family is close behind, and things won't be anywhere near easy for everyone involved.

**Notes**:  
- Finally finished Torchwood so hopefully I'll add more to those characters; like Tosh and Owen;  
- I'll try to get another chapter up soonish, at least before next Thursday, as I'll be in Europe for a month and will be pressed for time when it comes to writing and posting chapters (although my laptop will be joining me).

--

_It is no good to try to stop knowledge from going forward. Ignorance is never better than knowledge. _

– Enrico Fermi (1901 - 1954)

--

_Chapter Three_

Pete told Jackie. It was obvious when Jackie didn't stop talking the entire way, on all the most inconsequential things in the world: her son and Rose's brother, Alexander, his wobbly toddling; the latest celebrity gossip; the upcoming Vitex charity ball that Rose would be expected to attend despite her pregnancy; Mickey and Jake's relationship; she stopped short of commenting on the weather.

But Rose didn't hear her – she was ignoring Abby's concerned looks and Jackie's own shuttered, pained expressions. Rose was staring out of the chauffeured car window, running over her meeting with John Smith again.

Fact one: the Doctor constantly used the pseudonym "John Smith," when he wanted to avoid being recognised, except for the one time when they met Jack and she called him Mr. Spock.

Fact two: John Smith had only one heartbeat, which meant only one heart; the Doctor had two.

Fact three: there was quite a bit about the Doctor and his past that Rose still didn't know, despite their intimacy.

Fact four: _he recognised her_.

It wasn't wistful thinking, or even Rose's imagination. There had been a spark of recognition in John's wide, brown eyes. Physically, John Smith was identical to the Doctor – mannerism as well. So what did that leave Rose with?

Alien artefacts. She worked in that field. She had seen tons of different pieces of technology, of art, of culture. She'd seen communication devices, like walkie-talkies – she'd seen necklaces and rings and pieces of jewellery that were symbols of love; she'd even seen cloaking devices that made aliens look like the local population. Who's to say the Doctor didn't have something like that? He had tons of junk and bits o' bobbles about the TARDIS.

So, was John Smith then the Doctor? Were they the same man, alien?

Rose sighed. She wished she knew.

--

When the car arrived at the Tyler Estate, Rose ignored both Abby and Jackie as she walked through the entrance and went straight up the stairs, directly to her room. She sat on the edge of the soft, dusky pink duvet and stared at the folded hands in her lap.

Did it really matter if John Smith was the Doctor or not? Regardless of how John looked, acted, spoke – there was an attraction.

_But is it one you want to become involved in?_ Rose asked herself. She knew that despite being the Tyler heir, there was a lot of talk about her unmarried state and being pregnant. Having a father for her baby – who wasn't Uncle Mickey or Uncle Jake – would solve some things. It would stop some of the gossip, stop the whispers at work.

But a replacement wouldn't solve anything.

Rose sighed again. It was Torchwood business now, anyway; maybe she could con some information out of Pete or Mickey?

--

Several hours later, it turned out Rose couldn't get any information from Mickey or Pete. Both were still at Torchwood, questioning John Smith and his companion – another point in favour of John being the Doctor – and would not be returning to the Estate until early morning, if possible.

Mickey felt like a lout withholding information about the Doctor from her, but he had been in the middle of Martha's most recent escapade with the Doctor (_Shakespeare? REALLY?_) and they were nowhere near done. In fact, Mickey felt a bit bad about everything, in general; Rose, for wanting information he was hard-pressed to give in the first place – not to mention what Pete was going to go through when he finally went home – and Martha, for falling in love with the Doctor despite his very aloof and standoffish attitude.

Mickey figured that if the Doctor had never taken (_stolen_) Rose from him, he might have been far more charitable towards the alien himself, but by the time he left them and remained behind in the parallel earth, he knew he wanted to be more than the tin dog. Oh, he knew Rose and the Doctor didn't _mean_ it, but with the two of them, they were always so wrapped up in each other that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

He was reminded of a Greek myth where humans were originally beings with four arms, four legs, and two heads; they would roll everywhere and began to roll up Mount Olympus. Zeus worried that they were trying to take the roll of Gods and cut them in half – thus creating two separate entities of men and woman, two halves of a whole. Those two halves would then search for the half that they were split from, creating the idea of soul mates – the perfect other match. To Mickey, Rose and the Doctor were each others' perfect match.

Oh, he knew that growing up on the Powell Estate he couldn't possibly sprout random Greek mythology, but since taking the reign under Pete Tyler's Torchwood, he was steadily working his way through a technical engineer's degree and some of his electives were as random as the idea of hunting down aliens to the unsuspecting public. No, Mickey was determined to prove he wasn't the tin dog anymore.

And he wasn't; he hadn't been for some time now. He found a place with Torchwood, with Pete Tyler, with Jake Simmonds. He found a place in this Earth where his Gran was alive, where what he did made a difference.

"Sorry 'bout that," murmured Mickey as he slipped back down into the cold, metal seat in the interrogation room. He hadn't wanted to put Martha or the Doctor – erm, John Smith – in these rooms, but he also didn't want either of them to think that Torchwood was their friend.

Martha's pretty face settled into a slight frown, but she nodded in acceptance. "It's okay," she replied instead, jerking her chin towards the mobile. "Girlfriend?"

Mickey snorted. "Ex-girlfriend, actually, and she just wanted to know what was going on with you two. That's all – she's pretty high-ranking here at Torchwood too."

He wasn't dumb enough to say it was Martha's rival on the phone.

He may be "Mickey the Idiot" to the Doctor, or the Tin Dog (heck, now that he thought about it, K9 got more love from the Doctor than he ever did), but no one could accuse Mickey of being callous.

"How does someone get involved with whatever here is anyway?" asked Martha, glancing around the sterile, white room and the obvious two-way bullet-proof mirror that opened to a hidden observation room.

"You're in Torchwood," began Mickey hesitantly. He and Pete had spoken about it, and decided to let Martha in on who picked her and the Doctor up – they would, of course, not disclose _everything_, but offer enough information to make her spill enough back.

"What's that?"

Mickey paused. "It's like… an organization that protects Earth from hostile aliens while learnin' more about alien cultures and worlds."

Martha frowned. "Is there…" she trailed off, visibly gathered her courage, and continued, "Is there one in our universe?"

Mickey nodded. "I was there at Canary Warf."

A pained look flashed across Martha's face. Her cousin had died there, and couldn't this Torchwood have saved them all? Didn't they have the technology? This world seemed years ahead of her own in technology and culture.

Mickey seemed to read her mind. "I was there as a scout. The Doctor and Rose did everything. They saved the world."

A bitter look flashed briefly across Martha's face before she carefully masked it. _Oh,_ thought Mickey, saddened, _how much you've learned from the Doctor in such little time. Two years later and Rose still can't hide her emotions. What has he done to you, Martha Jones? What have you allowed to be done to yourself to hide away behind a mask?_

"You couldn't…?" she still had to ask.

"They had already begun cyberising the people before we knew what was going on. I'm sorry."

Martha nodded, accepted it, and folded her hands together on top of the metal table, looking calmly at Mickey. "So ask me what you need to know. But before you really begin: am I a prisoner?"

Shock filtered its way across Mickey's face before he slipped back into the Torchwood persona. A rueful, small grin crept onto his face and he shook his head. "No, you and the Doctor aren't prisoners. Had you been back at _your_ Torchwood, he'd be in danger. But _this_ Torchwood thinks quite highly of him. He'll be well protected here until the TARDIS will have time to heal."

"So what happens after this?" she had to know. She couldn't _not_ know.

Mickey shrugged. "I'll probably take you to a Torchwood flat, or you might stay with one of the other agents. Maybe Abby, or you'll come back with me to my place while I go to the Director's. We're not going to just throw you back out there to survive on your own. I'm sure, though, that the TARDIS has a cover story figured out for the Doctor. You can go along with it, if you'd like, or we can help you continue your education."

"That's very generous."

Mickey grinned inwardly. Oh, she was leery of the offer alright; the Doctor had chosen well with taking her along for a spin 'round the Universe. "What can we do to convince you?"

"I want to see the Doctor."

Mickey winced. How could he tell Martha that his superior Time Lord brain was slightly frizzled and he could barely remember how to walk? Maybe seeing her would connect his missing cover story. Or, maybe it would make him fall for her. Mickey didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to know.

A glance over his shoulder at the reflected mirror made his mind up.

"When we're done here, Martha. I still need to find out if there's an alternate you in this world. Once you answer our questions and I do that, I'll bring you to see the Doctor."

Martha agreed, and Mickey settled down for a long evening.

--

Pete was flabbergasted. _Flabbergasted_. The Doctor's human side was an idiot. John Smith was an idiot. The most babbling, puppy-like, eager five-year-old who found the cookie-jar, inane, geeky idiot Pete had ever met.

And considering he was the Director of Torchwood 1 and hired several stuffy, know-it-all scientists and geeks in his time, that was saying a lot.

He hadn't _stopped_. John Smith was still going on about the gravitational pull of several plants in Earth's solar system, and making it sound like astronomy and physics were recreational hobbies.

_Well_, amended Pete, _they most likely _are_ for a Time Lord_. But that didn't mean he was growing sick of learning Earth's trajectory through space.

There was no doubt about it that John Smith wasn't smart; he was a genius. He was humble, though, not the cheeky arrogant alien Rose had described him as.

_Ah, Rose_.

That was another issue he needed to breech. Did he or didn't he mention her to John Smith? On one hand, he was tempted to see the man's reaction; another side wanted him to bundle his somewhat-daughter up and keep her locked in the Tyler Estate house (Rose would kick him in the shin before he could even think that, though, so it was a bit moot point).

As for the alien's cover story, the TARDIS seemed to have realised that, despite the fact that she was barely functioning, she, the Doctor, and his companion were in friendly hands – and near Rose. When Pete walked into the TARDIS, to ensure that she wasn't too damaged (he also didn't want to get electrocuted near the console, but he had to be sure that it was the same TARDIS that Rose spoke of), the bloody ship had nearly _purred_ in pleasure.

He soon realised it wasn't because of him, but rather his DNA. She recognised the Tyler DNA and his parent stream that contributed to Rose – even if it was a different him. Although he couldn't communicate with the ship the way Rose could (which was something _else_ he had to ask the Doctor once he was the Doctor again), Pete understood enough that the TARDIS was okay with him and his Torchwood people taking care of the Doctor.

She did, however, still supply a cover story that seemed to just magically pop into John Smith's head.

Pete looked down at the file in front of him. It was rather thick; over half was all on the Doctor, including one of only four pictures Rose had of him from her super mobile phone. The other part of the file was now John Smith's.

Name: John Smith (_no, really – it's the Doctor_, Pete's mind supplied readily); age: 38 (_900 and something, but who's counting?_); occupation: historian and planetologist (_and about a thousand other things on top of that_); martial status: "quite single, thank you." (_Not if Jackie got a hold of him_); next of kin: none (_just wait another month or two, Doctor_); contact in case of emergency?: Martha Jones; credentials? – a flash of (blank) psychic paper that made Pete smirk but ignore the tingle at the back of his skull.

The poor sod didn't even realise that he was being manipulated; Pete felt almost sorry for him. Whatever original cover story the TARDIS might have had was completely changed the second it realised it was in the parallel earth – Pete had an opening for a competent planetologist – and the Doctor certainly fit that category even if he couldn't remember being to another planet (or the fact he was born – or whatever equivalent – on another planet).

The TARDIS wanted the Doctor – in human form or otherwise – near Rose and Torchwood. Rather, just near Rose and his offspring. Being near Torchwood was another plus; they could watch over him and Rose carefully and ensure they were protected from hostiles.

In the end, at nearly four am, Pete pushed a stack of paper at John Smith.

"What's this then?" he asked, stopping mid-one-sided conversation on the geological makeup of Mars, in surprise.

Pete withheld a smirk. "It's a contract that all our employees sign when they come to work for us. You'll need to sign every page…" Pete was going to relish this: "In triplicate."

The expression of wide-eyed terror on John Smith's face was committed to memory. Shame they had turned off the cameras in the room, though.

--

John was craving tea. It was like a mantra in his head: _teateateateateatea_. His hand ached from signing his name with flourish on several pieces of paper and now all he wanted was tea and a comfy bed and maybe some toast. With jam. Ooh, or marmalade. Marmalade would be nice, but where could he find a Tesco's open at this time of day?

_Maybe Rose would know_.

The thought popped into his mind unexpectedly and all his other, science-related, food-related, sleep-related thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Silence.

Across from him, Pete Tyler was organising the papers into three piles, and typing in a phone number on his mobile. He was quite good at multitasking, John found, like Rose.

Again! Her name again! He met the woman _once_, just once, acted like a right fool in front of her and now he couldn't get her out of his mind. He knew there was something about the blonde that captivated him, but surely this was too much? Who was she?

_Rose Tyler_, his mind supplied, eagerly; happily.

Wait. Tyler?

"Uhhh," the noise was out of John's mouth before he had time to realise his mouth was open and his throat was working.

Pete looked up from his mobile and waited patiently for John to continue. "Yes, Mr. Smith?"

"Your, uh," how on earth was he going to ask? John could feel the heat of a blush working its way slowly across the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, and then rush to the tips of his ears which burned. "Your last name, Mr. Tyler. I met someone earlier with the same surname. Rose Tyler?"

A shuttered look fell across Pete Tyler's face, and his already pale complexion seemed to go paler. John wondered if he really stepped in it this time; he had a feeling he bungled his way through life most of the time, really.

"Yes?" the Director of Torchwood drawled slowly. "What about her?"

_Oh, well_, John thought; _fortune favoured the bold_. "Are you related to her?"

A series of emotions appeared on Pete Tyler's face before he finally settled on amiable. "She's my daughter."

Well, shit.

He fancied the Director's daughter. His _boss's_ daughter.

Wait – fancied? Oh. Oh _no_.

"Why do you ask, Mr. Smith?" there was a glimmer of something in Pete Tyler's face, but John didn't want to really think about it. He _really_ stepped into it this time.

"I met her earlier." Honesty did seem the best policy.

"Oh? Where was this?"

"In the medical bay," supplied John, carefully, cautiously. "She was dizzy and hadn't felt too well."

Pete Tyler nodded. "Her pregnancy hasn't been that easy on her."

Oh, an opening. Should he take it…?

"The father of her baby… is he… uh… around?"

Another series of emotions flashed across Pete Tyler's face before he settled on a blank mask. "No."

The word could mean so much, but so little. John didn't know where he got his courage – he had a strong idea that he was a bit of a coward, actually – but he pressed on. Something was telling him that even if Pete Tyler decided to have a hit on him, he'd manage to survive, but it was such an abstract thought that John almost _didn't_ continue. "Does she have a lot of people around to help her?"

John was beginning to recognise some of the emotions that were flicking across Pete now: worry, anger, helplessness, and then something like hope. "She has her family but she doesn't have the one she really needs with her."

The baby's father. Oh. Well, that certainly put a damper on things, didn't it?

"I see," murmured John, his eyes dragging away from Pete's, and settling on an ink mark to his far left, embedded into the table.

Pete cleared his throat. "Well, then, Mr. Smith, if we're done…? I'll have Jake take you to his flat where you can sleep the morning off. We'll expect you back here for noon, though, and we'll help settle you in. Your friend, Ms. Jones, will also be joining you but will be staying with Abigail McMaster." At John's worried look, Pete continued smoothly: "She is only a few rooms down in the building, and on the same floor, so you'll be near each other if there is an emergency."

"Great. Fantabulous! Fabbity-Fab-Fab! Fab-a-mondo!" He should really shut it, shouldn't he? John pulled a face and settled back on the metal seat, his bum aching. A tired grin stretched across his face.

Pete nodded and stood, stretching a hand across for John to shake. John stood as well, and reached.

It was a like a flare went off in his hand; _it burned_. It was like the recognition he had with Rose, but smaller, a little less vibrant. Rose Tyler was all gold and heat and burning and life and death and time and space and ohsomanyotherthings – Pete Tyler was like a small flame, a single candle lit in the darkness, familiar but John was sure that they had never met before in their lives.

A quick glance upward, underneath his long, rakish brown fringe, John searched Pete's face for the same recognition. There was nothing but a genuine, fond smile on the slightly older man's lips. His wrinkles – those across his forehead and small ones at the corner of his eyes – indicted he was tired and probably eager to return home.

_Home to Rose_, whispered another part of his mind. Inwardly, John made a face. He wasn't getting jealous about the girls' own father, was he? After all, he had just met her – didn't know her, despite the familiarity. He couldn't be jealous… could he?

--

Unbeknownst to John Smith, to Pete Tyler, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Martha Jones, and the rest of Torchwood 1, several hours earlier the second group that was sent out to explore the second ship that hit Earth's atmosphere did _not_ come into contact with a TARDIS or a slightly deranged made-into-a-human Gallifreyan.

Unbeknownst to Taurus group, they came upon the Family of Blood's ship. Or, possibly. _It was a bit hard to tell_, thought Ryan Ford; and it wasn't like he knew it was the Family of Blood.

There was no crater and no scorch marks on the ground, but Jessica Burnberry had a broken nose and a black eye from walking into an invisible spaceship. She had been treated for her injuries – minor as they were – and the group of twelve sat in a large circle around the ship. Their communicators to Torchwood were down (interference? They'd never figure it out until it was far too late, unfortunately); they couldn't get in the ship and they certainly didn't have the horse power or equipment to drag the ship back to London.

At least, inconspicuously. People would wonder about empty transporters.

So, as dusk fell and nearly a hundred and fifty miles away Rose Tyler and John Smith met, the Taurus team had finally run out of patience.

"All I'm saying is that we've been sitting here for the past six hours without any instructions from Torchwood and we don't know if this thing is dangerous or not! We should make a decision and _go for it_!" snapped Ryan Ford, a tick in his left cheek.

The commander, Richard Lawhead, shook his head and frowned. "We don't know if it's dangerous, sure, I agree with that. However, it's an invisible ship, Ford. How would you propose we go in there? And – here's an idea – what if there are Cybermen in there? Or Slitheen? What about Usdabugfhs? Remember them? They killed two dozen civilians in Crawley before Torchwood got out there to stop them – and even Ms. Tyler didn't know about them!"

Ford grumbled and crossed his arms, ignoring the slight bunching of his Kevlar vest. "I don't like sitting around like this. I feel like sitting ducks. Something isn't right."

Jessica Burnberry shot Ford a disgusted look. "We work for Torchwood. Nothing is ever right."

"Except for Weevil hunting," inputted Lionel Wyatt, another Taurus team member. "That's almost a constant."

There were some grumbles and some laughs, but finally, after another hour of silence, Richard Lawhead gave in.

"Fine. Fine!" he agreed, throwing his hands up. "I'll go check it out." He looked around the sea of faces of those in his company, and chose three others; they were all well-known shooters with near perfect scores. "I'll have Hannah Lloyd, Jessica Burnberry, and Michael Daunton with me. The rest of you, stay here."

The remaining team – and a very put-out Ryan Ford – agreed. The group watched in awe as Richard slowly crept up to the barrier Jessica had walked into, and pressed his palm gently against it. The air rippled with green light and there was, briefly, an outline of a large, streamlined ship.

There was a hissing noise and a spot opened; Richard crept inside, and Ryan Ford could see a dark green/brown colour scheme and lots of wires and weird knobs. The other three followed him into the ship – and Ford jumped when the door hissed and slid back into place, hiding the ship again from prying eyes.

"C'mon, c'mon," muttered Ford under his breath, fingering his pistol nervously, constantly flicking his left wrist to see the watch he wore; twenty minutes had already passed.

As it neared an hour, Ford was more than just twitchy; he knew something had gone wrong. They should've called for backup, taken the official vehicles out to the nearest town if their communicators were down, called on the phone line, despite it not being secure…

But when his watch read 10:34pm, the ship shuddered – visibly, with green ripples like a pebble thrown into a pond – and the door opened, with Richard, Jessica, Michael and Hannah stumbling out, like they were walking on uneven ground.

"Oy! What happened!" shouted Ford, loping forward. "You lot were gone over an hour! What was in there?"

Richard stood straight as Ford approached, standing impossibly straight almost, and took a deep sniff.

"What's up with you, mate?" asked Ford, frowning. "Got congested or something?"

Richard shook his head, slowly, as if it was an effort. "Not at all, Ford."

"So? What was in there?" the man asked, again.

Richard, Jessica and Hannah all turned to face Michael, who sniffed like Richard – deeply, heavily, like a bloodhound – and answered for Richard. "It was empty."

Ford frowned. Something wasn't right; he was trained to notice things like this, but he didn't have any other proof other than his own instinct. And instinct was telling him to _get the fuck away._

"Right," he settled on saying, backing up. "Well, let's get back to Torchwood. We'll report in during the morning shift, especially if there wasn't anything. We'll send a team up to block off the area?"

Richard took a sniff and turned his head to face Ford, who suppressed a shudder. "Yes, yes, that sounds good. Shall we?"

Ford stood back as the four walked towards the Torchwood SUVs, and saw some of the looks of confusion and suspicion on the other Taurus members' faces. Mentally nodding firmly, Ford made his mind up right then and there that he'd watch those four carefully.

A look back at the invisible spaceship made Ford frown in concentration. There was something weird going on, and he was going to make sure nothing bad happened from it. Besides – there were numerous cells in Torchwood in the basement that hadn't been used yet.

They needed some hostile aliens to break them in.

--  
TBC


End file.
